Waiting for Spring
by fireweed15
Summary: AU. Princes Ivan Braginsky and Alfred Jones are betrothed, so that their marriage will strengthen their two kingdoms. However, Lady Natalia promises to steal the young prince for herself. Teaming up with Prince Ivan's guardians, Prince Alfred embarks on a journey to save his betrothed and the kingdom, and to learn what it takes to be a leader.
1. Prologue

_A long time ago, a great king and his wife prayed for a child. For years, they waited and prayed, until finally, their wish was granted, and the king's wife bore a son. Because God was gracious, they named the child Ivan._

_To celebrate, the king proclaimed a holiday so that all could meet and pay tribute to the newborn prince._

_Also on this day, the prince would be betrothed to another royal. This child was Prince Alfred of one of the western kingdoms, who, at the age of two years, was little more than a babe himself. The young prince offered the newborn a pendant of white silver, set with ruby and sapphire, the colors of their kingdoms. The pendant was hung from the top of the infant prince's cradle, which pleased him, and his laughter rang throughout the great hall._

_At this time, the king's most loyal advisors, the Baltic Three, met the new prince. Tolys, the eldest, was sensible and wise; Eduard, the middle, was well read and clever; and Ravis, the youngest, was cheerful and pleasant._

_As they admired the newborn prince, the great oak doors at the end of the hall opened, and all eyes turned to the person who had stepped through them—a woman, wearing a navy and white dress and a dark cloak whose hood concealed her face._

_Everyone fell silent as she made her way to the front of the hall. As she stepped onto the dais, she pushed back the hood, revealing ashen blonde hair and eyes like fragments of ice. She fixed the king and his wife with a level gaze before crossing to stand at the cradle. The Baltic Three took a step back, but the woman ignored them and peered at the infant prince inside. "When might I expect him to be marriageable?" she asked of the king._

_"He won't be," the king replied. "Not to you, Lady Natalia."_

_The air suddenly grew cold. "And why not?" she demanded._

_"Our son is already betrothed," the king announced, "to Prince Alfred."_

_Lady Natalia looked down at the other young prince, who hid his face in his father's trousers. "To this whelp of a boy?" she asked incredulously. "Surely you mean this in jest."_

_"The marriage of these princes will unite and strengthen our kingdoms," the king replied. "Our armies will grow strong, and our people will prosper."_

_"And what of_ my _people?" Lady Natalia hissed. "We have suffered and fought alongside yours for a dozen generations! I have petitioned for this prince's hand—it is my right!"_

_"And you think this entitlement permits you to come here and disrupt this occasion?" the king demanded. "If you've nothing to give us but torment, you will be removed from this hall."_

_A smile like the curve of a blade touched Lady Natalia's face. "I do have a gift for the little prince," she declared, kneeling by the cradle and running her hands along the edges and looking down at the infant prince, but never once touching him. "What is the prince's name?"_

_"Ivan," Ravis answered; he was quickly silenced by his brothers, as his youth made him made him prone to speak freely._

_"Ivan," Lady Natalia repeated, her voice soft and cloying. "You will grow, Ivan, I promise you that. Grow and grow—you will be quite handsome at twenty, I think." The words she spoke were meant only for the little prince, but she made no effort to conceal them. "There'll be a gift for you on your twentieth birthday—you'll love it very much, so much so that all you'll long to do is prepare for your ascent to the throne. And I promise you, my little prince—" only then did she reach into the cradle, to brush her fingers over his forehead—"all will be one under our rule." All around her recognized the words for what they were: a curse._

_Eduard whispered a few words to Tolys, who stepped forward. "Lady Natalia, where's the pleasure in this?"_

_She fixed him with a stony glare. "What I do is neither for your pleasure nor your concern."_

_"But I know you, Lady Natalia," Tolys noted. "You love games and challenges as much as you love your people—"_

_"To simply take the prince provides neither," Eduard added._

_"I'm not 'simply taking,'" Lady Natalia observed. "If I wanted to take him now, I would do so. I choose to bide my time before the prince and I align."_

_"Without challenge?" Ravis asked, catching onto his compatriots' plans._

_"Lady Natalia, surely you'd love to play a game with us," Tolys asked._

_"What kind of game does the clever Baltic Three think I should play?" Lady Natalia asked, her expression smug._

_"Give us a chance to fight," Tolys announced._

_"Your proposition sounds more like a demand," she noted icily._

_"I could never demand anything of a lady such as yourself," Tolys answered, bowing slightly. "What I mean is that surely watching us put up a fight would be more satisfying than our passive acceptance."_

_Lady Natalia tapped her chin thoughtfully before a small, snakelike smile touched her face. "Very well—Ivan will still be preparing to take his place at my side, but it will take time. From sundown on the day of Ivan's twentieth birthday, you—anyone who wishes to try, has one hundred days to free him. If you cannot…" A soft, dark, deadly chuckle. "Know that your people will think fondly of you for trying." She stepped a little closer to Tolys. "Does this please the clever Baltic Three?"_

_"Lady Natalia, no one will ever doubt your graciousness," Tolys said, bowing._

_Lady Natalia smiled coldly before turning away from the trio and looking into the cradle. "Until we meet again, little prince," she promised. She offered a curtsy to the king, swept her hood up over her head and left the hall without another word._

_As the great oak doors closed behind her, the hall erupted into cries of confusion, fear, demands that action be taken against so brazen a threat to the prince! The king roared for silence, which fell on the hall like a blanket. He gave a somber look to the Baltic Three and indicated that they should follow him out of the hall._

_The trio nodded seriously as the queen gathered up her sleeping son from his cradle and stood at the king's side. The group made their way out of the hall and into a more private room. "All of what she said—what does it mean?" the king demanded._

_"Exactly what she said, Your Majesty," Tolys replied regretfully._

_"Then how is any of what you said out there meant to help us?" the king asked, nearly snarling._

_"It gives us a chance to find a way to fight back," Eduard cut in._

_"Lady Natalia's not invulnerable, Your Majesty," Ravis added, hoping to counter the audacity with which his senior addressed the king._

_"It can be done," Tolys went on, "and we have twenty years and nearly one hundred days to find out how to do so."_

_"And what do you propose I do with my son until then?" the queen asked coldly, holding the prince against her heart._

_"Let us care for him," Tolys replied._

_"What?" the king asked in disbelief. Even Eduard and Ravis seemed surprised by their brother's proposal._

_"Let us care for him," he repeated, "somewhere far away from here until the day he can marry."_

_There was a pause as the king and queen exchanged glances, silently debating whether or not to send their long-awaited son away for twenty years. "I promise you, the prince will be safe," Tolys said softly. _

• • •

_And the king and queen placed their son in the care of the Baltic Three, who left the kingdom in the night and traveled to a distant village, where they raised the prince and made their home for nearly twenty years. Such is where our story begins._

* * *

_Basically, what happens when you listen to "Once Upon a Dream" and trawl the RusAme tag on Tumblr at two AM. I hope you'll stick around to see the chapters to come!  
_


	2. Chapter 1: Forest Meeting

_I was originally going to hold off on updating, but all the warm comments and watches made me post sooner. Thank you so much for the reviews, faves and watches! I greatly appreciate them! _

* * *

_Dear Vanya,  
I eagerly await your arrival for our wedding. Twenty years and finally the day comes! It hardly seems real, does it? I hope this gift finds you in good health and even better spirits, and that when we finally meet at the altar, I will see it pinned proudly to your chest._

With love and regards,  
Your fiancé,

Alfred

Ivan opened the small parcel that accompanied the letter. Sitting in a bed of paper and linen was a pin, forged from silver in the shape of a chamomile blossom and studded with yellow diamonds in the flower's head. It may have been the finest thing he had ever owned.

He turned the pin over in his hand as he reread the short letter. The hardly all seemed real—he was a prince; he would be married by the end of the week, also to a prince; and his quiet life in these woods would come to a close. God, how he would miss these woods.

But, he thought as his eyes fell on his fiancé's signature, it would be worth it. He'd exchanged so many letters with Alfred (he only ever called him that in his innermost thoughts) over the years, he almost felt as though he knew the western prince and could hardly wait to meet him in person. "God help me, I may love him already," Ivan said softly, carefully folding the letter and tucking it into the pages of his Bible.

"Ivan!" a voice from downstairs called. "Could you come down here please?"

"One moment," Ivan called back. He glanced down at the pin in his hand before concealing it in the folds of the blankets on his bed. While his guardians wouldn't disapprove of him receiving a gift from his fiancé, this felt far too precious, too personal, to share right away.

Satisfied with how the pin had been hidden, Ivan stood and tugged his steel grey tunic into place and made his way down the stairs of the cottage he'd grown up calling home. "You called for me, Cousin Eduard?" he asked the empty room around him.

"In the kitchen," Eduard called back.

Ivan stepped through the doorway to the kitchen, nearly bumping his head on the worn wood in the process. Seated at the rough-hewn table were Cousins Tolys, Eduard and Ravis, all three of them grinning like mad; a plate of pastries, still warm and steaming from the oven, sat on the table. "Happy birthday, Ivan," they chorused.

"This is for me?" Ivan asked, feeling the Baltics' cheer spreading to him as well.

"Of course," Eduard confirmed, beckoning him to sit with them.

"But my birthday isn't until tomorrow," Ivan pointed out.

"Tomorrow's going to be busy—for all of us," Ravis explained. "So we decided to celebrate today, just the four of us, like when you were little."

"Did you think we would forget your birthday?" Tolys asked, gently teasing, as he brushed flour from his palms.

"Of course not," Ivan replied, taking a seat and looking at the pastries. His mouth watered at the sight of them—thin, flaky layers of golden crust with a honey and cream filling between each and topped with honey and nuts. "This looks like it took a lot of time and money." He remembered the way his guardians saved as much of the money his father sent them for his care as they could; how much of that store had this treat taken up?

"It was worth it," Ravis reassured. Only now did Ivan notice the flour on the tip of Ravis' nose. "How often does a pr—someone turn twenty? And what about your wedding?"

Although he was young (but still so much older than Ivan), he spoke the truth. Ivan nodded his concession, and reached across the table to swipe the flour from Ravis' nose, turning his fingers to him so that he could see.

The action itself wasn't particularly funny, but the bright shade of red Ravis turned in response was, and the elder Baltics and Ivan started laughing, Ravis joining in when he got over his initial embarrassment, the sound coming from the bottom of their hearts. As their peals of laugher faded, they helped themselves to the pastries, still warm and just as good as Ivan remembered, if not better.

"Are you ready to go back to the capital?" Tolys asked after several moments.

Ivan thought of his possessions, all packed and ready to be moved by the small ensemble of pages he understood he would gain when he stepped into his new life as prince regent. "I am," he replied. "What are our travel plans?"

"We leave tonight," Eduard answered, "and will arrive at the palace by dawn."

These plans seemed very backwards in Ivan's mind—surely traveling during the day, when thieves were more cautious to strike, would be safer?—but his guardians had never led him astray, so he said nothing. "Will I see my parents before the wedding?" he asked.

"Of course," Tolys asked.

The promise of finally meeting his parents warmed Ivan's heart, and a small smile touched his face. "Good," he replied simply. "I'm looking forward to meeting them."

"And they you," Ravis added.

Ivan nodded again. _What are they like?_ he wondered. Tolys had said that when Ivan was at his most serious, he was very much like his father, but more often than not, he took after his mother. Hmm… He pushed the thought from his mind as he took up his empty plate and those of the Baltics and stood up to take them to the washbasin and plunge them into the water. After a moment, he withdrew his hands from the basin and shook the water from them and started for the cottage door, pulling his cloak from its peg on the wall as he went.

"Where are you going?" Tolys asked.

"I want to take one more walk through the woods," Ivan replied, tying the cloak around his neck. "They've been a part of my life for so long, it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye."

The Baltics exchanged amused glances. "That would be fine," Eduard replied after a moment of silent consultation with his brothers.

"Thank you," Ivan said sincerely before kneeling to check his boots.

"You know our signal to come home?" Ravis asked.

Ivan stood, smiling slightly. "A three-note whistle that pierces the ear like a blade?" The smile became boyish, almost mischievous in nature. "I can't say I do."

"Go enjoy your walk, _shvibzik_," Tolys playfully scolded.

"I will," Ivan replied before bidding his guardians goodbye and leaving the cottage. He turned his face upward, relishing the feel of the sun and fresh air on his skin. Such beautiful weather the day before his birthday was a wonderful blessing.

He turned his gaze to the woods surrounding the cottage and started on a path through the trees. A light breeze kicked up, rustling the grass at his feet and the leaves overhead. Ivan paused and looked at one of the branches of a larger tree. Would it be undignified for a prince his age to have one last climb? He was putting serious thought to the idea when twigs and underbrush behind him snapped and crunched as if under a man's footsteps. "Who's there?" he called, looking over his shoulder.

No one could be seen, and the sounds all stopped. Ivan remained still for a moment before warily kneeling to inspect his boots once more; as he predicted (and perhaps feared), the sounds continued—whatever or whoever it was, he or she or it was coming closer. The underbrush finally quieted down, there was silence for a moment, then—"Ivan?"

In a single, impossibly fast motion, Ivan was back on his feet, a hunter's knife withdrawn from inside his boot in hand. He seized the interloper by the front of his tunic and pressed the blade against his throat. "Who are you?" he growled.

"Easy, easy!" the interloper protested, lifting his hands in a passive gesture. He was perhaps a year or two older than Ivan, but a good head shorter. His hair was the color of wheat, and his eyes, brilliant blue and framed by silver-rimmed spectacles, were wide with fear. "I mean you no harm, Ivan."

"How do you know me?" Ivan demanded, applying a little more pressure to the blade; any more and there skin there would be cut. Ivan truly hoped today wouldn't the day he first deliberately took a human life.

"Who else but your fiancé would send you a chamomile pin the day before our wedding?"

Ivan felt his confusion flicker across his face. No one could have seen that pin, and certainly no one knew of his engagement. "Who are you?" he asked, this time with significantly less conviction as he lowered the blade slightly.

The other relaxed marginally as the blade was withdrawn. "I am Prince Alfred of the western kingdom," he announced, "and you are Prince Iv—"

"Please be quiet!" Ivan cut off. All his life, _prince_ had been a word spoken in the softest of tones; to hear it spoken so freely was almost unnerving.

The other nodded his understanding before continuing in a softer voice, "And you're Prince Ivan of the northern kingdoms." He offered Ivan a warm smile. "You and I have been exchanging letters for quiet some time, I believe?"

A very small smile touched Ivan's face. "Alfred?" he asked softly, lowering the knife completely.

The smile on Alfred's face grew wider. "I was starting to wonder if you'd figure out it was me at all," he teased.

Ivan laid the knife in the glass and wrapped his arms around Alfred in a warm embrace, one the western prince gladly returned. "I am very glad to see you," Ivan murmured.

"Me too," Alfred replied.

"How did you find me?" Ivan asked, breaking away from Alfred. "Our letters were sent through a middleman at the palace."

"I followed the middleman here," Alfred explained, clasping Ivan's hands in his own.

"I'll be arriving at the palace tomorrow," Ivan pointed out. "There was no need."

"I've waited nearly twenty years," the other prince noted. "I got tired of it—I wanted to see my fiancé in person." His smile faded slightly. "Is that a problem?"

Ivan took a deep breath and sighed. "If the Baltic Three find out you're here, they won't be very pleased." He reached out and laid a hand on Alfred's arm. "But I see no reason for them to know about it, do you?"

Alfred's face lit up again and he offered Ivan his arm. "Then where can we go where we won't be spied on?"

"I know the perfect place," Ivan replied, accepting the fair-haired man's arm. "_Sleduyte za mnoy_."

Ivan led Alfred to a clearing deep within the woods. Poplars formed the clearing's outermost border, and a small creek separated one section from another. The taller man broke away from the other and settled on the grass. "This is my favorite place to come think," he admitted, patting the grass next to him.

"What do you think about?" Alfred asked, sitting next to him.

Ivan turned his gaze to the creek. "Things that are troubling me," he began, "things I would like to do one day—sometimes about what it must be like to be king." He looked at Alfred with a small, warm smile. "I've written you many letters from this place."

"You could have told me about its beauty," Alfred replied, leaning back with his weight supported on his hands. "I might have come to visit you sooner."

"But then the visits would no longer be special," Ivan pointed out, tentatively laying his hand on top of Alfred's. "They would become like getting a haircut—something we did out of obligation, rather than want."

Alfred loosely laced his fingers with Ivan's. "For not having been raised as a prince, you certainly speak like one—much better than I do."

A hint of color touched Ivan's cheeks. "I'm sure you're a wonderful speaker," he protested. "In your letters—"

"Letters for your fiancé are different from speaking in front of a court or your advisors," Alfred dismissed. "You're far better than I am."

Ivan's blush grew a little darker as he mumbled his thanks. "The Baltics have taught me royal as well as academic pursuits."

"They've done well," Alfred complimented, reaching over and running his fingers through Ivan's silver blond hair. "You'll be a great prince." Ivan smiled appreciatively and laid his hand on Alfred's cheek. A moment of silence passed between them, and Alfred spoke once more. "You have such remarkable eyes."

"Thank you," Ivan said sincerely.

"I've never seen such a color," Alfred noted. "Where does it come from?"

"I can't say," Ivan admitted. "I've had them for so long, I cannot remember what I gave to God in exchange for them." He playfully nudged his fiancé's shoulder. "Perhaps a little of my smarts, da?"

Alfred laughed at the joke. "Certainly not your sense of humor, though I suspect you were so charming you got them for free." His tone became soft. "You're eyes are beautiful—as are you."

A spark passed between them for a moment before they pressed their lips together. Ivan hummed in… something. Surprise? Pleasure was certainly a factor, if the second_hmm_ he gave was any indication.

Alfred ran his fingers through Ivan's hair again, breaking away every so often to draw breath before pressing another kiss to the taller prince's lips. Ivan snaked his arms around Alfred's waist and pulled him against his chest; Alfred found he didn't mind the gesture, and let his hand trail down Ivan's chest and side to settle on his hip.

As their breathing, their heartbeats, fell in time, a three-note whistle, loud to the point of being almost painful, cut through the air. The pair jumped and broke apart, eyes wide and ears pricked for the sound to reoccur. "What was that?" Alfred asked.

"I have to go," Ivan said quickly, starting to stand.

"What, why?" Alfred caught Ivan by the wrist.

"That's my sign to come home," Ivan explained.

"Already?" Alfred asked incredulously.

"I'm afraid so," the other confirmed sadly.

"I could just take you back to the capital with me," the fair-haired prince suggested as he reached out and stroked Ivan's cheek, his smile becoming almost impish.

"I wish I could," Ivan replied, "but if I don't come home in the next few minutes, the Baltics will be assuming the worst."

"And what, pray tell, is the worst?" Alfred questioned.

The answer had changed over the years—when he was very young, fairies would come to spirit him away; later, it was the threat of bandits; now (especially now that he knew his true heritage), it was simply because why take the chance? "I don't know," Ivan admitted, "but I don't want to find out."

"Very well," Alfred replied, standing. "I cannot convince you to come with me, so until then—" he reached out and clasped Ivan's hands in his own— "I will wait for my prince to come to me." He kissed Ivan's fingers. "Do you have any requests for the wedding?"

Ivan paused, seeming to turn the question over in his mind. "I would like to see my favorite flowers there," he answered.

"What are they? Lilies? Roses?" Alfred guessed.

"Sunflowers," Ivan corrected.

"If my prince wishes it—" Alfred pressed another kiss to Ivan's lips—"I promise, it will be done."

"Thank you, Alfred," Ivan said softly, brushing soft kisses against Alfred's cheeks. "You'll be able to return safely?"

"A knight will always return safely to his home and his dear ones," Alfred replied gallantly.

"You've been knighted?" Ivan asked in surprise. "Surely your letters would have said—"

"Not yet," Alfred admitted, "but someday soon!" He kissed Ivan once more before breaking away. "Until tomorrow."

The pair parted ways, to return to their homes, unaware that in the shadows, there was another, watching them, hearing and seeing all, but being seen or heard by none.


	3. Chapter 2: The Downfall

_Augh, you guys make it so hard for me to pace myself posting chapters...! I still love ya, though. Enjoy!_

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When Ivan arrived at the cottage, the feel of Alfred's lips still on his own, he wasn't entirely sure how he and the Baltic Three would be travelling to palace. Walking would take far longer than the time Eduard had mentioned (they were… oddly adamant about arriving at the capital and him being wed before the end of the day), and they had only one swaybacked mare that had come with the cottage and Ivan had never seen do any work between them.

His question was answered when Ravis met him at the door with a travel satchel and instructions to pack up whatever he would need for the journey. "Feliks will be here soon," he added as an afterthought, "with the horses."

Ivan nodded his understanding thinking of the horse breeder who lived an hour away from their cottage. He was an old friends of Tolys', so with a little clever storytelling, Ivan didn't doubt that the eldest Baltic could convince Feliks to lend them a few horses.

Packing took no time at all; all he really wanted for the journey was his Bible, the letters from Alfred and his chamomile pin. Not wanting to damage the gift, he pinned it to the inside of his tunic. Feeling the cold metal against his chest made him feel as though he were a few steps closer to Alfred, which warmed him in ways that a blanket or fire couldn't.

Ivan was buckling the satchel closed when Eduard called upstairs for him to finish up, Feliks had arrived. Ivan shouldered the bag and looked around the bedroom. Memories of bedtime stories, fevers, dreams—his youth flickered through his thoughts, and he was struck once more with how he would miss this place.

Still, dwelling on the past would solve nothing, nor was it Ivan's way… not that this stopped him from giving the doorframe an affectionate pat as he left.

When he stepped outside the cottage, the Baltics and Feliks were waiting for him, prompting a humble apology from the young man's lips. The Baltics dismissed the apologies (they'd not been waiting long, they reassured); Feliks simply nodded to him and gave him the reins of his horse, a chestnut brown stallion. Ivan gave the animal an friendly pat on the neck before mounting and nodding to his guardians and their guide.

Now fully assembled, the group turned northward and started toward their destination. The sunset painted the sky a brilliant orange red, which quickly faded to the blue-black of night; with the arrival of night came a chill in the air, prompting the five to draw up the hoods of their cloaks. No one carried a lantern, and no one dared speak above a whisper; unlike the magic and fairies, the bandits Ivan was taught to fear were a very real threat.

• • •

When the sun rose, they were half a mile away from the capital. Ivan admired the way the sunlight struck the towers of the palace. Somehow, it looked exactly as he had imagined it.

When they arrived in the capital, it was just starting to wake. As more and more people started to fill the streets, more people started to notice Ivan, and many dipped their heads in respect. _They know_, Ivan concluded. Of course, it made sense that the people of the capital (_my subjects!_ and how strange it felt to call them that) would know about the arrival of their prince, but to be treated a anything other than Ivan, the boy from the cottage at the edge of the woods, was so strange…!

By the time Ivan had finished turning these thoughts over in his mind, they had arrived at the palace's great iron gate. After a brief, whispered conversation between Tolys and the guards there, the gate was lifted and they were allowed to pass through. As Ivan rode by, the guard saluted him, and Ivan returned the gesture. All this attention was going to take getting used to…

Ivan followed the lead of the Baltics and Feliks and reined his horse to a stop in the middle of the open courtyard. He absently stroked the animal's neck before dismounting; from the moment his boots touched the ground, he found himself swarmed by people who all seemed to be focused on the task of preparing him for the ceremony that evening. The sudden, massive influx of attention rendered him close to mute, and he could only throw a glance over his shoulder at the Baltics as he was ushered away. _I wonder when I'll get to see my parents, then._

• • •

Ivan remembered when he was little, and one of the Baltics was given the unlucky task of giving him a bath. It was a weekly affair, likely to get him into the practice of it later, he mused. Not that it stopped the little boy version of him from leading Tolys, Eduard and Ravis on a wild chase that resulted in both him and his pursuer being ten times dirtier than they were to start. The mental image almost made him laugh today.

Almost. That feeling that came after those baths, of being scrubbed down to the skin and probably glowing pink, wasn't quite as nice when delivered by someone else's hand to a twenty year old, Ivan decided. Not only that, but there was a rather lengthy discussion among the aides tending to (or was it torturing?) him about what to do about the twenty years of damage to his skin. Ivan felt privately offended that they would consider his time spent doing honest work in the sun (pale though he remained) _damage_.

He was barely given a reprieve after that, and was dried and shuffled off to a small group of tailors. Ivan had been a tailor's dummy for the Baltics before, but at least there had been conversation and pleasant chatter then. Now, as he was put into an elaborate suit of white, silver and pale blue silks, the only conversation was between the cloth and scissors, and the occasional bit of shop chatter among the tailors. The silence hung over Ivan like a hangman's hood. "When will I get to see my parents?" he asked as one of the tailors re-measured his sleeve.

"I can't say, Your Highness," the tailor replied, keeping his eyes on his work.

"I was promised I would see them before the ceremony," Ivan noted icily.

Another tailor spoke up, his voice subservient. "I'm certain that you'll see them soon, Your Highness."

Somehow, that consolation didn't make Ivan feel any better.

Heaven only knew what his father was doing, but whatever it was, he wasn't done by the time Ivan's suit had been finished, and the prince tried to hold back his disappointment. His consolation prize was a set of clean clothes—very fine, but blessedly plain—in which to wait out the final hours until his wedding.

And wait he did, for several hours, in what he assumed would be his bedroom—his and Alfred's, if the size of the bed on which he sat was any indication. Were all grooms as nervous as he was on the day of their wedding, he wondered as he made another futile attempt at drying his palms. Nervous energy tingled in his fingers, and he knew reading would be pointless. Oh, he still had Alfred's letters, but knowing that he was somewhere in the palace made the letters feel a poor substitute.

He looked out the narrow window, hoping to distract himself even slightly. All he could see was the courtyard, and the bustle of activity within, but beyond those high stone walls were the kind of people with whom Ivan had grown up.

…Would it be so bad for him to spend a few final hours among his people? Wasn't a good king supposed to know and care about his subjects? If he was going to be king, shouldn't he get a head start on that? Alfred'd had plenty of time to do that while Ivan was living in the country, and he'd have a lot of catching up to do.

The very idea of being out in public, out of the stone walls of the palace, made his heart flutter, and wanderlust took over. Ivan found his travel cloak (carefully folded over and resting on the trunk at the foot of the bed) and put it on, fastening it about his neck before reaching into his bag and pulling out the chamomile pin. He took a moment to affix it to his tunic, and, as a final thought, pulled the hood up over his head.

Ivan expected there to be even one person outside his door, someone guarding the prince, but found none when he pushed the oak and iron door open. Frankly, he preferred it that way, and slipped out before he could question the blessing.

When he had first arrived, he had been ushered from the courtyard to the baths to the tailors to the bedroom; tracing his steps from those places was the easy part, but once he was lingering in the mouth of the open courtyard, he realized that he had made a very serious error: failing to account for how crowded the courtyard. The realization made him feel extremely foolish—on the day of his wedding, how could he expect anything less? It was times like this that Ivan would have greatly preferred not being royal.

A few moments later, a windfall in the form of a passing cart, accompanied by a small group of people. Not one to question such a blessing (two in so short a time? God must have been smiling on him today), Ivan readjusted his hood and fell into step with the group. Dread touched his consciousness as they passed the guards at the gate, but he was able to pass through unrecognized.

Ivan followed the cart until it reached an open market before breaking away and taking a long look around. The market was filled with people, both travellers and denizens of the capital, and it occurred to Ivan that these people could very well be attending his wedding later. How strange to think of it that way…

But Ivan had come here to take his mind of the wedding, so he laid the thought aside and started to wander the market. These open markets were nothing new to him—he had always loved going to the village market with the Baltics, and was a fair haggler—but he was instantly taken with the exotic goods for sale: spices and fruits, silks, jewelry and baubles… He was starting to regret not bringing coins to purchase a trinket or a small snack; surely his compliments on the vendors' wares would be a sufficient substitute…? He made a mental note to, as king, carry coins for this exact purpose.

Ivan's attentions shifted from his little resolutions to the cages of brightly colored exotic birds. As he admired the blue and yellow plumage of the bird closest to him, a woman's voice called, "Sir?"

Ivan looked around, and discovered he was the only "sir" to be found. How strange, when the market was so crowded. "Yes, Madame?" he replied.

The woman who had spoken to him was small, coming up only to his chest, and the dark dress and cloak she wore made the skin of her hands, and her eyes and hair seem even paler. She beckoned him closer from her place across the alley, and Ivan stepped closer. So far as he could see, she had no stall from which to sell any wares, which were also curiously absent. "I have a gift for you," she told him, her voice hushed.

For all her lucidity, the absence of anything that looked sellable made Ivan wonder if she was mad. "A gift?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir," she replied. The woman knelt to pick up a cloth-wrapped bundle at her feet. Holding it as one might an infant, she peeled the cloth away to reveal a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers. "These are your favorites, aren't they, sir?"

There had to be at least a dozen flowers in her arms…! "How did you get these sunflowers?" he asked. "I thought all the sunflowers in the kingdom were brought here for the prince's wedding." _How strange to refer myself in the third person… _

"I saved them," she replied, holding them out to Ivan once more. "Please, sir."

Ivan could hear Ravis' voice echoing in his ear, gently chastising him to accept the gift. Even without that reminder, even with the reservations this woman's sanity sent tingling in his mind, even though he knew he would receive sunflowers—more sunflowers than he could ever dream of—in a few hours time, these were far too lovely to pass by.

With murmured thanks and a sincere smile, Ivan accepted the flowers. As he considered how the color reminded him of Alfred's very personality, he suddenly felt very, very tired.

• • •

Watching Ivan fall wasn't like watching a tree fall, as she had predicted; rather, as she watched his knees give out beneath him and his body drop to the ground, it was like seeing a tower with a crumbling base collapse. Thankfully, he didn't hit his head or hurt himself in the fall. The woman—and how good it felt to refer to herself as Lady Natalia again!—pushed her hood back and smiled down at the unconscious prince, the air around her all but thrumming and glowing purple. "_Dobry dzie__ń__ jaš__č__e raz, trochi Ivan."_


	4. Chapter 3: The Promise

Not that he could have known it for certain, Alfred's day had been similar to Ivan's—scrubbed, spit and polished (try as they might, the royal barbers could do nothing about the crescent moon shaped lock of hair that stuck up, bold as brass, from the rest his blond hair); wedding suit fitted a final time; and a few final moments with his family before being left to his own devices. In Ivan's kingdom, this meant spending his time in a bedroom, in isolation and devout prayer. To his credit, he had offered God a prayer that the wedding, his and Ivan's coronation and the unification of their kingdoms would all go smoothly, but he was too excited to spend much more time devoting his thoughts to the divine.

No, his mind was focused on what was to come. He imagined, at length, what Ivan would look like in his own suit; how their first kiss as a married couple would feel (would it be any better than their first kiss in Ivan's forest glen?); how they would look wearing the silver, ruby and sapphire crowns of their newly-united homelands as they were proclaimed kings. Alfred suspected Ivan would be extremely handsome, and he could feel a fire starting to burn in the pit of his stomach.

His imagination was starting to get the better of him when someone knocked on the door—three sharp, professional knocks. "Who is it?" Alfred called, feeling the fire in his belly started to fade out as quickly as it came up.

"Ravis Galente, Your Highness," the voice on the other side answered.

Alfred turned the name over in his imagination—Ravis. He'd been mentioned in Ivan's letters, so he wasn't quite a stranger. But what was he doing here? Alfred opened the door and looked down at the smaller man. "What is it?"

"Is Ivan here?" Ravis asked, his voice low and—was that a note of urgency Alfred detected in his voice?

"Of course not," Alfred replied, his nose wrinkling. "He should be in his bedchambers the same way I am—isn't that your custom?"

Ravis nodded quickly, and Alfred was struck by how stressed he seemed to be. "He's not in his room," Ravis confided as his elder brothers came up the hall at a quick jog. All three looked harried.

"_Gde on_?" Eduard asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Ravis shook his head, prompting a tumble of panicked words in a language Alfred didn't understand from the elder's mouths.

"Has it occurred to you that Ivan might be somewhere within the confines of this castle?" Alfred asked.

"We've looked everywhere," Tolys replied.

"Ivan's nowhere to be found," Eduard added. "No one even saw him leaving his room—"

"Let alone the castle," Ravis finished.

"Can't you look again?" Alfred questioned. Ivan just wandering off…?

The Baltics opened their mouths to explain that they had, several times in fact, when a young page bounded up to them. "His Majesty wishes to see you, Your Highness," he said, with a bow, to Alfred before turning to the Baltic Three. "All of you."

• • •

Alfred had a vague memory of the king of the northern kingdoms. Specifically, he recalled the king being a very tall man, even without the consideration that everyone was tall to a two-year-old. Now Alfred was grown, but the king was still tall, though older and a little gaunter.

The door to the king's chambers had barely closed behind the Alfred and the Baltic Three when the king stood, his attention focused on Alfred. "Where is my son?" he asked with little prelude.

"If I knew, I would tell you, Your Majesty," the prince replied, bowing.

Before anyone could speak, the captain of the palace guard, a tall, fair haired man Alfred noted was never more than an arm's length away from the axe now strapped to his back, stepped inside. He offered the king a crisp salute before speaking. "We searched the prince's room from top to bottom, Your Majesty. This was all we could find."

He walked past the king's audience to press something small into his open palm. The elder turned the item over in his hand, his expression almost bereaved. "Thank you, Captain Køhler," he said stiffly before dismissing the guard.

As the captain withdrew and the door closed behind him, the king handed the item to Alfred. "This looks familiar to you, I'm sure?"

Alfred looked down at the thing in his hand—the chamomile pin he'd sent to Ivan. Now, the once shining silver and yellow gems were tarnished with a pale lilac-colored patina. "My engagement gift to Ivan," he pronounced solemnly.

"It is as I feared," the king said slowly. "Lady Natalia has acted on her curse."

The Baltic Three stiffened. The exact thing they'd hoped to avoid had come to pass. God, how they had hoped the day would go smoothly. The three hung their heads, mumbling apologies, however little it would have done to solve the problem.

"A curse?" Alfred queried. "What do you mean, a curse?"

"The leader of one of the southeastern under-kingdoms, Lady Natalia Arlovskaya," the king explained, "placed a curse on the prince when he was born, marking him to rule alongside her. It was to come into effect before the sunset of his twentieth birthday—today."

"And that's all you have to say on the matter?" Alfred snapped. "Is nothing going to be _done_? You'll leave your son to the whims of a woman who'll take over your kingdom—with Ivan's aid?"

"Are you always this brash?" the king asked coldly.

"Only when that which is dear to me is threatened," Alfred replied, his eyes taking on a determined gleam behind his spectacles.

"Your Majesty, what about the one hundred days?" Tolys asked suddenly.

"What one hundred days?" Alfred demanded.

"We have one hundred days to rescue the prince," Ravis explained.

"Well, that's a very simplified explanation," Eduard added. "There's bound to be problems and perils along the way—"

"We'll send our finest soldiers," the king announced, "those who are prepared to deal with such a threat—"

"Your Majesty, with all due respect," Tolys protested, "let us rescue the prince. He was taken while still under our guardianship—it only makes sense that we correct our mistakes and bring him home safely." Ravis and Eduard nodded in agreement.

"You don't need to send troops or the Baltics," Alfred announced easily.

"And why is that?" the king asked archly.

"As Ivan's fiancé and as a future king," the prince began, "have I not an obligation to protect him?" Alfred barely waited for a reply. "With all due respect to His Majesty, you need only wait for our safe return." He bowed to the monarch before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

As the door swung shut, the Baltics looked to the king, whose face, while stony, revealed precious of his inner thoughts. After a few moments, he spoke slowly: "Let him go."

The Baltics made a collective noise of surprise, and the king turned to them. "What can I do? To send soldiers would be to alarm the people more than is necessary, and it would alert Lady Natalia to our intentions. If he—" He nodded toward the door through which Alfred had just gone—"thinks he can bring my son back, then I won't stop him."

"Is it wise to send someone to fight Lady Natalia alone, Your Majesty?" Ravis asked with a bow.

"I have accounted for this," the king replied. "You three are to follow him—do _not_ allow him to leave the capital unaccompanied."

• • •

Antonio plunged the white-hot steel into the slack tub, hardly coughing at the resulting heavy steam; that he was used to. What was going to take getting used to was the vague chill in the air. It made sense for the northern kingdoms' capital to be cool, but it felt like it had gotten worse in the past few hours. At least the fires of the forges helped keep out some of the chill.

Activity at the front of the workshop caught Antonio's attention, and he peered around the edge of one of the great hearths. "You Highness," he called in greeting as he realized the source of the activity was Prince Alfred picking his way through the forge.

"Skip the formalities, Antonio," Alfred replied, waving his hand dismissively. His nose wrinkled at the smell of heated metal.

A small smile touched Antonio's face. On the verge of being crowned king and he was still no different than when they were young. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked.

"I need a sword," Alfred answered with little prelude.

"What about the one you came here with?" Antonio questioned.

"Not good enough," the prince replied, looking over a recently forged dagger.

"Is it not sharp enough?" Antonio held out his hands to receive the sword. "I can have it sharpened in only a few minutes."

"It's sharp," Alfred noted. "It's just not good enough—is my coronation sword complete?"

"It is, yes," Antonio answered.

"Let me see it," Alfred ordered.

Antonio _hmm_-ed in thought. Finding no harm in letting the prince see it, he stepped into the back of the workshop for a moment, returning with a long, narrow wood box and setting it on the table between them. When Alfred saw the keyhole on the box's front, he held out his hand expectantly; Antonio produced a slender skeleton key and pressed it into the prince's hand.

Alfred put the key into the keyhole and, with a twist of his hand, unlocked the box and pushed open the lid. It was a long sword, nearly the length of his arm, and sheathed in fine, elaborately detailed leather. He lifted the sword from its cushion of royal blue velvet, taking note of its heft and the ease with which he could carry it; oiled otter fur trimmed the open edge of the sheath. As he withdrew the sword, the forges threw light onto the blade, reflecting the flames and under-lighting them both.

The prince grinned widely. "It's perfect," he announced, his eyes running up and down the blade's length.

"Thank you," Antonio replied with an appreciative nod. "I forged it myself."

"This should do nicely," Alfred announced, re-sheathing the sword and tying it to his belt.

"¿_Que_?" Antonio asked, his voice rising in pitch. "This is meant to stay here until the coronation tonight! I can't let—"

"If I had a choice, I'd agree with you, Antonio," Alfred said, tying off the knot, "but I don't. I need a good sword."

"¿_Para que_?" Antonio pressed. "Why do you need this now?"

"I can't say," Alfred replied, his tone almost regretful, "but I promise it'll make sense in the end." He clapped the swordsmith on the shoulder. "You trust me, don't you?"

Antonio considered the childhood he spent as a swordsmith apprentice playing alongside the western prince and the trouble they managed to make. "Did I ever have a choice?" he asked with a smile.

Alfred laughed, thanked Antonio for his understanding and quickly left the workshop, his new sword swinging on his hip with every step. All that was left was get some food for the journey (not much, this quest wouldn't take very long) and find his horse, ask a farmer to point him in the direction of Lady Natalia's home and rescue Ivan. It was a trouble, but a minor one—they would still marry, and he would be crowned a king and a _hero_. his mind started to consider what the court poets would write of the—

A pair of hands seized his arms and dragged him backwards. Alfred's hand seized the grip of his sword as he snarled and fought against his restraints. He started to unsheathe the sword, prepared to strike down his assailant, when he craned his neck to get a better view of his target—"Eduard?"

The bespectacled man released Alfred's arms and bowed as his brothers joined them. "Apologies for the rough handling, Your Highness—we feared words alone would not stop you."

"What are you doing here?" Alfred asked, sliding his sword back into its sheath.

"His Majesty ordered us to come with you," Tolys explained. Now Alfred noted that all three of them were wearing travel cloaks and carried satchels.

"We want to help," Ravis added.

"Thank you, but there's no need," Alfred politely declined.

"You Highness, you don't know Lady Natalia as we do," Tolys said, hoping to reason with the prince.

"She may be clever," Alfred dismissed, "but she's no match for a knight." He gave the Baltics a bright smile. "Ivan and I will be back within a week and the wedding will go on as normal."

The Baltics exchanged concerned glances, but it was Eduard who spoke for them. "Your Highness, there is a saying among my people: _Ära karu nahka enne ärä müü kui karü kate ön_. In your language: 'Don't sell the skin before you've caught the bear.'"

* * *

_Apologies for the weird formatting... I wanted to post this but my usual process was thrown off kilter. Still, I hope you enjoy the update! _


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